


Handsome lad

by Ellstra



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Making Martinis, Television Watching, the 24 hours together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellstra/pseuds/Ellstra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They made martini's together and they watched Pretty Woman. And they laughed and they learned a lot about each other. And they may have danced and kissed. And they most certainly loved one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handsome lad

**Author's Note:**

> Basically my take on the 24 hours Harry and Eggsy spent together because I needed to write that.   
> Hint - You'll get the breakfast scene *winks*

They didn’t speak much during the ride and it didn’t seem to matter. Eggsy was curious where they were going but he knew Harry was waiting for him to ask and he wasn’t going to give his mentor the pleasure of being right. It was eating him alive – where was Harry taking him? Did he take his dad to the same place? Is it something official they were gonna do or was it entirely up to Harry?

“You’re unusually silent,” Harry pointed out after some time when they were waiting on red lights.

“I’m praying,” Eggsy retorted.

“For what?”

“For you not to kill me with your bloody awful driving,” Eggsy smirked at Harry as green flashed and the car moved, this time even more hesitantly than usual. “You got a licence last week or something?”

“I don’t drive that often,” Harry admitted, “but I’ve passed the test in the first take if that assures you.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy snorted, “million years ago. Why don’t you drive anyway?”

“I’m a busy man. Taking a cab is fairly helpful when you need to work. Gives you a lot of time in the traffic jams,” Harry explained, “Besides, I don’t really fancy driving when I have to stop every half a meter.”

“Let’s go on a road trip then. You’ll drive, I’ll pretend I’m not terrified and we can stop wherever we want and watch the stars or shit,” Eggsy proposed and turned to Harry with a rebellious spark in his eyes.

“Your seatbelt is not on,” Harry notified Eggsy without commenting Eggsy’s suggestion.

“Only sissies use seatbelts,” Eggsy deadpanned and sat straight again. He crossed his arms on his chest and pouted.

“Well, then be one and buckle up if you don’t wanna walk, you ass,” Harry took a particularly acute right turn in a quite dangerously high speed which sent Eggsy scrabbling for the dashboard in front of him to prevent himself from falling below it. (Damn this huge-ass car and his lithe figure. Eggsy is delightfully trim and tall just fine, he’s not tiny, _thank you very much_.)

“You’ve almost got me injured,” Eggsy exclaimed when he recovered from the shock of the impact.

“What? It wasn’t that bad. Nothing a buckled seatbelt can’t prevent,” Harry snapped back and sped up for no apparent reason when there was red on the signals in front of them.

“Fine, fine, I give up, jeez,” Eggsy through his hands up defensively and put them into use before Harry swerved again.

“As much as I’d like to go on a road trip with you, Eggsy, this car is not mine and I cannot use it quite as freely as you’d probably imagine. But we certainly can watch stars on my balcony if that’s what you’d wish to do,” Harry returned to the previous topic as if nothing happened.

“Your balcony?” Eggsy repeated, unsure whether it meant “You got a balcony?” or “We’re going to your place?”

“Yes,” Harry didn’t say anything else; whether he answered the first question, second or both, the response was still the same.

“You’re so posh and insufferable,” Eggsy muttered under his breath as he watched out of the window.

“And you’re so young and annoying,” Harry offered in retaliation. They glanced in each other’s direction at the same time, their eyes met and they laughed. Harry turned back to watch the road but Eggsy lingered a little longer on his companion’s face, observing the changes Harry’s laughter made in it _. I wanna make him laugh so bad_ , Eggsy thought and looked down.

“Here we are,” Harry announced as he parked the car by a pavement. Eggsy waited for the engine to stop whirring and undid the seatbelt. He looked around in awe; this was so different from the place he had been living in for the majority of his life. He was too young when his dad died and they had to move out from the fancy flat they shared and he only had a few mostly shapeless memories of the place. It had been very nice, big and cosy at the same time but it was nothing compared to this street. Eggsy almost forgot where he was and just stared out of the window.

“You know, you can see it better from outside,” Harry’s amused voice woke him from his thoughts as the door opened in front of him. Eggsy returned back to reality and felt embarrassed when he realised Harry had opened the door for him.

“Thanks,” he murmured because hey, he was embarrassed but his mum raised him well.

“Come, it’s a wee bit farther from here but you can’t drive the car there,” Harry announced as he locked the car and checked if it really didn’t open.

“Where do you live, a fucking manor?” Eggsy inquired as they went.

“No. A house without a driveway.” Harry replied and turned right into a small alley that ended after a few meters. It was all lined with white houses and several plants, shrubberies and trees in pots. The whole place looked extremely snobbish and yet welcoming. The entire street glowed with warm, yellow light. Eggsy wondered whether the feeling of being welcome was just because he knew Harry slept in one of these buildings.

“Seriously? I thought yours was the one at the end,” Eggsy pointed out after Harry turned to a front door of a house on the right side of the street.

“Why? It’s the one everybody stares at,” Harry replied as he fished keys out of his briefcase. “Gentleman is always as subtle as possible.”

“It looks nice,” Eggsy shrugged.

“They all do.” The key clicked inside the lock and Harry pushed the door open. “Welcome.”

“This is so surreal,” Eggsy huffed as he passed Harry inside the house. He could swear his brain was overheating and making wheezy noises like an old laptop as he tried to soak in as much of Harry’s life as he could.

“I was hoping you would say nice but whatever you wish,” Harry closed the door behind them and stood by Eggsy’s side, waiting for the younger man to take all the time he needed.

“No, no. I didn’t mean your house; your house is bloody awesome. I meant me, in a fancy place like this, with a bloke like you… I feel like Cinderella.” Eggsy said and finally diverted his gaze from the house’s interior to its owner.

“Well, you should run then because it’s nearly midnight,” Harry smiled.

“You’re the worst,” Eggsy laughed.

“I’m trying,” Harry gave him the warmest smile Eggsy could imagine. It heated him up inside, wrapped him in an imaginary blanket and cuddled him.

“So… what are we gonna do?” Eggsy asked after a moment of silence. Not that he minded standing in Harry’s gorgeous hallway, especially when he could almost feel the man breathing. But it seemed rather…unfruitful.

“Wanna see my office?” Harry asked.

“Sure thing. Is that a code name for some kinky dungeon?” Eggsy smirked.

“No. It’s just an office. A room where I work,” Harry had no idea why he needed to explain what an office is. Eggsy was making him extremely uncomfortable, in a good way though. As if nothing was ordinary with the man, everything was new and ready to be explored. Harry enjoyed being intrigued.

“Right. Whatever floats your boat,” Eggsy grinned. “So where is this dungeon that is secretly a boring office?” he asked after a while of an on-going staring contest.

“Follow me,” Harry turned around and lead a way to a wooden stairwell at the end of the hall.

“I always do,” Eggsy remarked wittily and he swore he heard Harry chuckle. The stairs creaked slightly under his feet; it wasn’t really loud and squeaky, just a reassuring “I’m here”. Eggsy had always thought wooden stairwells were an overrated tool of getting inhumanly huge pile of money out of posh people, but as he climbed one now, it didn’t seem to be that stupid thing to have.

“Are you quite done admiring my staircase?” Harry asked with a smug smile on his face. Eggsy realised he was indeed lingering a bit too long on the crafted bannister.

“I’m getting ready for your secret dungeon,” Eggsy retorted because he didn’t really have any answer to this. There were three doors on the first floor, all of them closed. Eggsy’s brain was working very fast to figure out which one would lead to Harry’s bedroom. Why though, he couldn’t tell.

Harry obviously thought Eggsy’s response was just as inept as he did and didn’t comment on it. Instead, he opened the door at the very end of the corridor. Eggsy followed him, interest peaked.

“This is… even weirder than I expected,” Eggsy breathed out after a few seconds of staring. Harry raised an eyebrow as he sat down into an expensive-looking chair by the table. He didn’t say anything and waited for Eggsy to elaborate his statement.

“So… this is your office?” Eggsy asked and turned his back to Harry as he examined another part of the room.

“Yes, I think we made that clear earlier,” Harry nodded patiently.

“And you can do whatever you want with it,” Eggsy went on and turned back to Galahad, examining the newspaper covers on the wall. They were all from the Sun, which seemed strange to Eggsy – he wasn’t sure if Harry read the Times or not, but he was sure he didn’t read the Sun.

“That is the essence of owning something, yes,” Harry fought to hide his smirk. He was always sarcastic and defiant, but with Eggsy, the sass took a whole new level.

“Why does it look like from some real estate magazine?” Eggsy shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m a naturally cleanly person, I guess,”

“And these?” Eggsy pointed at the newspaper covers on the wall. “You read this shit?”

“Not when it’s not about me,” Harry shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer in the whole world.

“What?” Eggsy didn’t sound extremely impressed.

“These are articles that inform about my missions,” Harry explained and turned the seat so that he was facing Eggsy, “it’s a little quirk of mine.”

Eggsy raised an eyebrow and stepped even closer. His eyes quickly followed the headlines – GOTCHA, IT’S A BOY!, JUDGE & THE RENT BOY – that one brought up a memory of his first meeting with Harry. Ah, but this one, this was interesting-

“To pee or not to pee?” He read aloud. Even though he appreciated the pun, he had no idea what could peeing, the philosophical debate about it or Shakespeare have even remotely in common with a spy’s mission.

“That was the headline the day after I defused the dirty bomb in Paris,” Harry explained as if it was an actual answer. Eggsy still didn’t have any idea what was the thing about, but he assumed he’d have to either ask Harry about the mission, or read the article and he didn’t feel up to neither. Instead he kept looking through the covers.

Eggsy never thought about how Harry got into Kingsman, that he must have gone through the same training as Eggsy now, that he must have been young and wild. It was just impossible to imagine Harry differently than as Galahad, a highly trusted spy, graceful, majestic, wise. Eggsy couldn’t picture Harry on a party, drinking some shitty alcohol he knew would make him sick, trying to hook up with someone or listening to Beatles or whatever music band was popular back in the prehistoric times. But assassination of Margaret Thatcher? That seemed like quite a big task for a newcomer. Not that Eggsy thought Harry would ever not be good enough, but still…

“’Bet everybody would thank you for that one,” Eggsy pointed out and turned to the chair on the other side of the table. He thought what it might be good for – Harry was a lone wolf as far as Eggsy could say, he never invited people he was spying on to his house (obviously) and he didn’t have any other work where he’d need to invite others into his home. Was it there because it looked cooler? Eggsy decided he didn’t care what purpose it was intended to serve and just did what people usually do with chairs.

“The point is, Eggsy, nobody thanked me for any of them.” Was it annoyance in Harry’s voice? Eggsy would almost bet it was. “Front page news on all these occasions and celebrity nonsense. Because it’s the nature of Kingsman that our achievements remain secret.”

Eggsy nodded to show Harry he was listening. He really didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t on any mission yet so he had nothing to be said about him, and he did understand the need for secrecy, but he also felt it would be nice to have his effort acknowledged if he saved a fucking Prime Minister.

“Gentleman’s name should only appear in the newspaper three times. When he’s born, when he marries and when he dies. And we are, first – and foremost – gentlemen.” Harry looked at him as if he truly meant it. As if he truly believed the Kingsman agents were gentlemen before they were anything else. And if he did, what was Eggsy doing there? He certainly broke the three appearances in a newspaper policy – he didn’t know if they ever wrote down his name, but it didn’t really matter.

“What’s me ‘fuck then? It’s like Charlie said – I’m just a plebs.” Eggsy threw himself deeper into the chair as if he was trying to hide in it.

“Nonsense. Being a gentleman has nothing to do with the circumstances of one’s birth. Being a gentleman is something one learns,” Harry tried to convey a message into his words. He could see Eggsy’s uneasiness and it made him angry to think that this amazing, brilliant boy would think of himself as of something less than that disloyal excuse of a man who dared call Eggsy names. Harry had thought about telling that smug prick off countless times but he knew he couldn’t do that, both because it would be unprofessional and for Eggsy’s sake. He knew the lad could deal with a threat as minor as Charlie, but that didn’t make his anger any lesser.

Eggsy looked sceptically at Harry. Sure thing, you could learn how to behave to ladies, how to look hot and graceful in a bathrobe, how to pretend you’re interested in what others say to you even when you’re not. But you can’t learn to be someone else. “But how?” he shook his head.

“Alright, first lesson,” Harry looked extremely amused, “should have asked me before you took a seat.”

Eggsy diverted his gaze from Harry and screamed inside his head. He was an idiot. How was he always the idiot? He didn’t know if Harry was truly disappointed, but it sure felt like it.

“Second lesson – how to make a proper martini.”

If there was anything Eggsy wished to see Harry do, it was cooking. Making a martini was not cooking in the true sense of the word, but it will do.

“Yes, Harry,” he sighed happily and got up from the chair.


End file.
